


Dishonour and Bisexuality

by softly_speaking_valkyrie



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Action, Assassination, Bisexuality, Coming Out, F/F, Female Bisexuality, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Mild Gore, Murder, Women Loving Women, bi pride, bisexual women, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 12:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softly_speaking_valkyrie/pseuds/softly_speaking_valkyrie
Summary: After a morning of stalking and eliminating another Templar target for the Creed to chip away at Starrick’s influence over London, Evie has a confrontation with her brother Jacob and takes to the streets incognito to avoid him. While smuggled on a train heading back to Whitechapel, she encounters someone she was least likely to expect; a royal guest from a place called Dunwall…





	Dishonour and Bisexuality

Evie scouted around the Thames and all past it from the top of Westminster, the idle prattle of the common masses down below almost louder than the movement of the traffic as they walked about their daily business flooding her senses. She was patient but the laymen of London irked her in these times when she was a preying eagle awaiting her target’s arrival.

Green had corroborated her findings from the streets that a Templar was to be passing over the bridge in the morning, en route inside of Parliament to speak with the leaders of the faction. With Evie on the case, without Jacob and relying on her with and stealth, he would never reach the rest of his fellow Templars.

She tried to make out the conversations below her, far down on the pavements from the mouths of nobodies. Her eagle vision and heightened senses allowed her to concentrate and listen in on them, what they were speaking as if they were next to her - the Times and the local headliners, who was making a move in The House of Commons, what was going on in ways of entertainment at the theatre, anything. All of it bored Evie Frye, she was looking for one person in particular all around the crowd, coming along from the next borough in a horse-drawn carriage with all haste to not run into her or her brother, or the Rooks. Jacob’s rascals had been tearing up the city in his war against the Blighters. Gang violence and warfare was not something Evie had in mind when she was devising how best to rip Templar London apart, but the Rooks had proven effective under Jacob’s leadership against Starrick.

She'd stalked the Templars for weeks, knowing all of her intended target’s routine now by heart - where he slept and for how long, then how he would rise and what time he would leave his house with driver and carriage. Which streets he took, if he walked or rode horse and carriage and on which days he would frequent which method, how long it would take him to reach each destination in a day. Whom he would have in an entourage, what security he may keep around for personal protection, his connections to Crawford Starrick, and the method best to kill him.

That detail had taken the most time to devise.

Evie was meticulous, ravenous in her methodology and planning, then stunning in her execution. Her timing impeccable and her skill was unmatched - she took the silent and covert approach to her kills and her brother made a scene but got the job done. She had been cleaning the streets of the Blighters and their own leaders for months, all to inch her way closer and closer to that final confrontation with Starrick, to kill him. For the Piece of Eden.

There were so many that had stood before Evie and her brother Jacob, her multiple run-ins with Lucy Thorne and how she had not yet been able to dispatch the bitch had constantly reminded her of it. Evie had lost multiple nights sleep to the thought and shame of losing Thorne multiple times. She was by far a most elusive Templar, and Starrick only far worse, for he had been untouchable thus far.

The conflict with Lucy Thorne at St. Paul's however, the multiple other scrapes and fights with her around London, around Lambeth, Whitechapel and the City of. Then their concise and desperate duel in the Tower of London. Evie had been so close to death on that occasion, but from her hands seeped in Lucy Thorne's blood came a newfound conviction to kill Starrick and end his poisonous, exploitive grasp on the masses of the capital of all of the vast Empire. The Empire that had spanned almost half the globe. Starrick had his clutches dug deeply into it, into the Crown, and he had to be removed. Evie would remove him, by force, hard and steadfast, along with Jacob. They would free the city and the world from Starrick’s despicable and disgusting presence.

Lost in thought of the Templars and their operations, Evie noticed her target's carriage as it turned the corner from the bridge, coming down the long road. It was her time.

"Time to move," she told herself, lightly stepping forward along the tip of the roofing, to the edge. She breathed, crouching and pulling her assassin's hood over her dark brunette hair, readying herself for another death-defying stunt over the capital's streets. She was shrouded by the hood and bathed in the comfort of it, ritualistic of her time to kill. It was practice and formality. He would cross the bridge into the area of Westminster, at which time Evie would already have killed him and be running across the rooftops of Greater London, entering incognito once more. She was silent and invisible.

Unlike her louder twin, who she was minutes older than.

As the carriage came tumbling down the road, Evie eyed the ledge of a roof across the way, the perfect height. She could traverse down her zip line, drop and kill the target in his open box, then hop out and run back into the heights of the city.

With a keen eye for her target, she fired her zip line launcher dart across the open space between her perch and the roof ledge she was eying. Once she felt the sturdy hold of her grappler, she pinned the other end to beneath her feet and leapt from the ledge. It was a leap of faith onto the tassel of the zip wire, like a circus act that many would perish from attempting. But her training as a member of the Creed would protect her and deliver to her target. As she was a little along the wire, she aimed back to the end she’d pinned to the Parliament roof and gave the line a tug, releasing it from the roof and letting it fall. Quickly, Evie grabbed a hold of her line and let the momentum and gravity of it take her down the incline, picking up speed very quickly as she slid down it. "I should make this quick." She told herself as she hurtled down at an insane speed.

Then a thought came to her as she saw the carriage bumbling down the road. It was slower than her. She was going to miss it, she would drop and land not inside the coop of the opened cradle containing her target, but rather before it. The horses would run her over and crush her body to death as she would not have enough time to react before the cavalcade reached her. She needed another plan.

Evie reached rapidly for her Revolver.

If she focused, very meticulously and aimed right at her target at the precise moment, the bullet would curve at the proper time, giving her the perfect shot, and her target's head would explode into a flurry of blood and expunged grey matter. She was at the proper height, the bullet would barrel past and around the driver and thunder through the target's head. Meanwhile, she would be able to keep falling, to grab onto the ledge of the roof and run along the tops of the houses and shops back to the train. The horses would be in a frenzy of alarm and would be unresponsive. In all likelihood, the carriage would turn and crash as the horses flipped out of control. It would look like an accident if Evie was lucky. There were no policemen or carriages around, only the guards near the gates to Westminster still some distance away from the scene where the kill would occur. It would be an unnoticed crime as she would be long gone before anyone would have a chance to see her. It was the best plan and the most methodical of executions.

She continued to slide down her zip line, cocking back the trigger of her pistol and turning the safety off, ready to fire, closing an eye and preparing herself. Evie held the small aiming reticle to her eye and kept the other closed with all her might, honing her vision and holding her breath to steady herself as the wind and air strained her outstretched arm. The concentration she needed was paramount and she was terrified as she flew through the air like a buccaneer on the high seas. This was her only chance, and she could do it if she focused. Her blood almost stopped as she relaxed and held herself.

The target's head came right where she wanted it, and she squeezed the trigger hard, slamming her index finger back into the curve of it with as much force as her strained and gloved hand could muster. She was shaking as soon as she pulled the trigger back. The bullet left the barrel at an incredible speed and crackled through the sky, curling as it curved along the space and flight plan between the pistol and the target's head. He was completely unaware as to the deadly lead hurtling towards him, and not even the driver had seen Evie. She was invisible as she flew through the air.

Evie let out her breath all at once and stayed watching just long enough to see the man grow limp, and the small splatter of blood pop out of his forehead like a powder keg of red paste. She'd hit him, and he had died instantly, a quick death for one so undeserving. The noise from the gunshot crackled through the sky but no one even noticed the man dead in the carriage as Evie reached the next rooftop and grabbed it. What came next as she lifted herself up onto the ledge and observed was the carriage crashing as the horses lost themselves. She did not care to see what happened next, her work was done and she caught herself grinning a little at her invisible handiwork. That would be a message to Crawford Starrick; only he would tell that the crash was an assassination by the leaders of the Rooks. London would soon be theirs.

With her last ounce of strength, she lifted herself up, propping her leg onto the ledge and heaving until she was standing upright. Before Evie started to run she looked back upon her prey one final time, seeing the driver clearing himself from the wreck of the carriage as the horses ran away without reigns, he checked on the passenger and cried out for her aid when he made out the bullet wound. The Templar was as dead as Evie could make him, her task was complete.

"Probably shouldn't be going to Parliament today, Mr Appleton," she grinned to herself, pulling her hood down and standing up tall. "You look dead tired..."

There came a sudden shift, a noise, a thump next to her, masculine and hefty in nature. "Dead tired? Seriously sister? Of all the anecdotes and witty puns to use in the English language and you chose that as your line to depart the dear Mr Appleton?" Jacob Frye scolded her as he tramped around the rooftop, his grand top hat making him look a little ridiculous in his long trench coat. He looked more like a con artist than a member of her Creed. “I have to say I’m absolutely ashamed. Father taught us better than that.”

"I believe it was still better than one of yours, Jacob. And why are you even here? I thought Dickens needed you for another one of his wild goose chases?" Evie asked, having noted he left the train hideout earlier in the morning to seek out the author near The Frying Pan. Now he was here, and she wanted him gone sooner rather than later so she could be on with her day. The death of her target and the fulfilment of her contract left her free for her own time, and there was something she had been longing for in the form of a laundering, feminine form in her garters and slip. In addition, lingering around the sight of an assassination was never the best option, and Evie had just reduced a man's brain to what could be considered a lookalike to a fried egg if it were made of red paste and goo. The carriage was going to need a good cleaning after and the driver was in for a shock that would surely eject his breakfast onto the street when he examined the body closer. A crowd was already threatening to gather but no whistles had called out yet.

"Begone, Jacob, you know not to linger around me while I'm performing my business," she told him a little more, flicking her hood back from over her dark ginger hair and sloping down the other side of the roof to the other ledge.

Jacob Frye studied the wreck of the carriage and horses, observing as the driver and few volunteers pulled the contorted remains of Evie’s prey from inside the crumbled, open-topped cradle. The masculine Frye grimaced and hopped down to join his sister along the other side of the rooftop, like a waiting predatory eagle.

"I would say that business was well and truly conducted, dear sister," Jacob spoke, a little disgust in his voice as he tried to remove the image of the dead man from his short-term memory. No man should be left in such a state, even Templars. The red smear of the man's head was utterly ghastly in the wreck heap as they pulled him from it. "I've never known you to be so bloodthirsty as of late, Evie," he noted, scooting close to her.

Evie rolled her eyes. "I suppose you could say I'm a little on edge if you must know brother. A lot of things on my mind since that Royal Envoy came floating up the Thames and had to disrupt all that we were doing," Evie recalled, remembering the adorned ship of golden decoration rolling up the foul body of water that split the territories of their fair city like a muddy flamberge. And the woman who had disembarked with her royal protector. From The Isles, and the capital city of Dunwall, the general gossip had told, a new ally to Her Majesty Victoria had arrived in London to delegate and debate about an alliance and trade opportunities with Britain. Ever since they had turned up, all of Starrick's appointments had revolved around the Crown and the damned Palace. They had been close to ending the man, and now he was nowhere to be known, protected behind closed doors once again, working through intermediaries and dignitaries. It was infernal. They could not touch him past the guards in red and black. All attempts would be mistaken for attempts against Her Majesty and Starrick would certainly use that against them if he escaped.

It truly was not worth the risk.

"The fair Lady Kaldwin has truly put a spanner in our works against Starrick, I will admit. But lest you forget how your eyes fixate on her when you see her in the open," Jacob sneered, nudging her. “I’ve seen you staring, sister, don’t try to deny it again, not this time. Not to me,” he continued, smiling, brotherly and trying to be serious, which hardly worked for him.

The elder of the Frye twins scoffed, slack-jawed, and leapt across the gap in rooftops across the alley to the next one, giving her brother chase to get away from such a shocking accusation. But Jacob followed, at a pace that was easy to him - he was a little faster than his elder twin sister ever so much, and keeping up with her was not a tremendously hard task. They had trained like it, and they had determined that Jacob always could outpace Evie, just enough to keep ahead of her.

"Come on, Evie, I have seen your eyes for her! Not to mention I know you've been visiting Nellie again!" Jacob called his sister as they brushed over the rooftops, leaping from massive heights to the next. He hopped closer to her, his hands behind his back like a gentleman. He truly was artful, an inspiration of Charles Dickens and his works. “Evie… Come on, we’re assassins… This is how we live…”

But Evie was not talking any further.

She had to get away from him, to give him the slip, but he was right behind her, close enough to tackle her from the tops of the houses and establishments. If only she could reach the masts in the Thames, she could lose him amongst the barges and the schooners and then she could dart for where she wanted to before heading back to the train. But Jacob was relentless, and he was still faster than her, she knew this but did not care about it. She continued to run away from him the best she could, as he hopped and galloped along behind her at a brisk pace to keep up with his sibling. They rounded a rather large chimney and Evie snapped her zip line launcher off to the flagpole of a larger mast in the distance. She didn't let the line lie she simply let it take her with it as it retracted and she zoomed off away from her brother and now pursuer. Jacob took the lower route, sliding down along slate tops and leaping over to the next rooftop and the next after Evie, on her like a rabid animal without a word and a determined look about him.

"Come on, Evie! I know you like a bit of the Sara and Jane!" He called after her. "It's okay to admit it!"

Evie launched herself off the flagpole and landed on a roof closer to the river. "I have no idea what you're talking about Jacob! I suggest you go back to the train!"

"While you sneak off to Whitechapel again? Come on Evie! Talk to me!" Jacob cried after her.

And as he stopped, after his cry so did she. Evie came to a stop just before leaping some more and gaining a big lead on her twin brother. They both stood in silence before Evie turned around to him, she was angry, but also sad, and vulnerable. This was not a conversation she ever thought she’d be eventually having with him, she had thought it would never have come up and she’d never need to talk about. Jacob could tell as much without seeing her face. He'd felt this himself before, a few years ago when he realised it was a part of him. The way of life that had chosen him, that had made it possible for him to be a lover of both women, and also men. It had chosen Evie too, and she was only now realising it, weighing her affection for Henry Green with that for Nellie, Nightingale, and this new Lady Kaldwin. The women she had been exposed to as of late were making these feelings drag themselves to the surface of Evie's mind, and without knowing it was the same in her brother, she must have been so confused about it all. It must have been the same as it was with him - a feeling of impossibility.

"You want both men and women, don't you Evie?" Jacob asked her, the most definitive question he could in his mind to settle this. And Evie froze still.

She slowly turned to him, and looked dead at him, across the gap between the buildings. What could she say? Yes? Could she say that to him? Could she stomach telling him that among the many other sins that they had both committed in their lives, that loving members of her own sex was yet another on the mound for her?

"Evie?" Jacob asked, and Evie dropped off of the ledge, falling into a leap of faith into a suspected barrel of straw or leaves below her and to safety. By the time Jacob hopped over the gap and peered over the ledge, there was not a trace of Evie Frye. She had done what always came naturally to her, one of the many things she could do better than Jacob - vanished. "For the love of... Damn you, Evie."

Evie took to the ground, hiding in the alleyway and looking up onto the rooftop as best she could until Jacob dispersed, then she got into the crowds moving around the Westminster borough, slowly filing into the nearest train station. Finding the nearest platform with a caboose and carriages harboured there she skipped aboard a train heading into Whitechapel and finally took her hood down again as she relaxed into the movement. All of this had only fuelled her need to make an appointment, she was frustrated, confused and feeling enclosed within her own skin and mind. Feeling so human and real when Evie rathered to feel surreal and more open to the thoughts of a higher plane, almost tuning herself to the cosmos. She wanted to either be wrapping her arms and legs around Lady Kaldwin, Nellie or even Florence, or she wanted to be running along the rooftops over Lambeth or any other of the London boroughs, fighting the Templars until they died. Jacob would find her there however and she did not want that right now, she was afraid of what she could and couldn’t say to him. Out of all the other things the two had done, this one thing about her made Evie feel so scared to admit the truth to Jacob.

Not because it was considered so sinful and taboo by almost all of the public, but because it was the near enough one thing that she had kept from him for a few months as she made this little trips to Whitechapel. Not to mention that since Lady Kaldwin had arrived she had been gawking at the woman from afar every time without fail that she had been exposed to the woman. Lady Emily was ethereally beautiful even from a distance, and her raven-hair appeared silky smooth. Evie wished to have her fingers tangling through it as they two shared a bed aboard the train of the Creed, never staying in one spot for long. She loved the sight of the envoy from a country she did not know where. The Lady sounded as if she was the Empress of a realm within the continent, somewhere small but grand and secluded, or maybe more northern, near Norway or by Iceland on the other side of Britannia. Wherever the Isles were, wherever places named Dunwall and Karnaca were, Evie had no idea as to their geography.

Evie heaved herself up onto the trailing carriage and shuffled along the roof of the train towards the front of it near the locomotive so she could see where it was taking her and where she needed to abandon it to get to Whitechapel in good time. There was no greater need in her now than the need to see and shag Nellie, fumbling the sterling in her coat pocket as she crouched along the carriages. She was right in that this train was headed back to Whitechapel. Evie could make her visit to Nellie and then check in with Abeline after that if he was at his office. She hoped to now avoid Jacob for as long as possible, if the stars were aligned she could do so even past the night if he remained off of their train.

Finally, she sat down, her legs dangling over the roof of the train, attempting to relax now that she was along and away from the interrogation about her sexuality from Jacob. Where had the day gone? What had happened to bring her here? Running form her brother because he knew she loved to make love to girls as well as boys. Evie felt embarrassed as she collected her thoughts, realising how childish the reaction was to something she knew she couldn’t control.

"I’ve never known assassins to do so much free running on the roofs of buildings and now trains. You English certainly are strange kinds of assassins aren't you?" Came a voice from seemingly nowhere.

When Evie turned to see where it originated, she saw a tall and heavily clothed woman, wearing a sporting but formal suit that made her look like some sort of outsider. Her hair was made up in a similar style to Evie's (yet her hair was fair more kept and smoother by appearance, oiled almost) and a cloth mask covered her lower face with golden patterns on the cloth. All Evie could make out was her eyes. And her eyes were so beautiful, but also so dark, and ultimately inviting.

"Who are you?" Evie asked the shrouded woman in front of her who had seemingly materialised from nothing.

"Who I am isn't important, I'm only here to get out a bit, being cooped up amongst pompous windbags and conglomerates have done nothing but bore me for about eight days straight. I needed the fresh air," she told Evie as she sat down next to her, overlooking the city as the train whistled along the bridge up into Lambeth. She saw the same thing Evie saw, a city gripped by the evil, the overconfident and the elite few. She knew of Crawford Starrick, but it was not her place to assault him or fight his grip, not that she knew of the Creed and its involvement. This time she was definitely here on regal business to talk with Victoria.

The hints clued Evie in and she gnawed at her top lip like a child as she blushed a rosy red, she knew who this woman was now but she could not believe she was meeting her here, on top of a train of all places. "You are Lady Kaldwin are you not? The Empress from..."

"The Isles, most notably Dunwall, a little up north. I have to say I prefer the warmer temperatures of your London to what we get in my lands. This is nice, a welcome change," Lady Kaldwin explained.

Evie laughed a little. "This isn't warm, Lady Kaldwin. London has been much warmer in the past, I believe we're experiencing a freeze. Hell freezing over it seems, now that Starrick’s grip has tightened on this city," Evie laughed a little as she made the quip.

"I’ve observed your activities this morning, near your government building. I have to say I’m pretty impressed your aim, Lady Frye. Not even I nor my father could have made that shot at that speed. You’re quite the lethal markswoman," Lady Kaldwin admired, getting a little closer to Evie along the train as the latter began to blush all the more and attempted to hide her face from Emily. Evie suddenly felt a lot warmer inside herself, being this close to such a beautiful Empress. Her bones went from frozen to mellow and fluid. She blushed a little as Kaldwin got closer to her. "And I must say that over the weeks I’ve been here, only you have taken my eyes, Evie."

"Then might I suggest you perhaps look into the possibility of spectacles? Lady Kaldwin," Evie reflected off of herself, feeling very warm indeed. Her smile was instinctive and uncontrollable as Emily made her advances closer and closer to Evie’s face. All so suddenly she was a little girl again learning what attraction was for the first time and feeling torn apart by it. Only now she was a woman, older and wiser and far more deadly, but Emily must have been twice her skill and even younger still to have been following her like a shadow for the whole morning.

Emily Kaldwin pulled down her face mask to reveal the rest of her sharp and beautiful face to Evie, and the native Londoner could not help but fall in love all over again with the rest of her features and fair complexion, the pale skin and such dark yet warm eyes. "Forgive me for intruding, but have your visits to the brothel in Whitechapel purely been platonic?" Lady Kaldwin inquired on a lark and with a mischievous grin, her lips angular and with those sharp points, were still full and plump as she spoke. Her mouth equally as inviting to the feminine Frye as her eyes were. Evie was captivated. But the fair Emily had revealed she had been following the elder Frye or at least had overheard her conversation with Jacob while fleeing him.

"Lady Kaldwin. Do you often stalk the fair ladies of the lands you visit to a point where you see them visiting brothels and shagging the dwellers there?" Evie asked, playing this small game with her visitor, but not getting offended or shocked, in fact, she was adoring the banter and playful chatter. It was evident that Lady Kaldwin possessed similar training to Evie, however, her appearance, as well as her demeanour, let Evie know that Kaldwin was not a member of the Creed. She was something of an independent, or so she seemed. Perhaps the woman had a creed or code of her own. The scabbard on her belt was telling of the presence of a short sword and Evie could make out a holster for an Imperial pistol with a bandolier for several bullets.

Evie was extraordinarily interested, captivated by the woman. But Emily's eyes grew shrouded still, containing the swirling darkness within her, but they only made her so much more beautiful to the elder Frye. Her eyes were something else.

"Only those I find myself drawn to. And I have found myself drawn to you, Evie Frye..."

Again, Evie became nervous, on edge at what she was doing, thinking too much about it. "They say attraction is the most powerful force on this Earth. Stronger than Newton's gravity. More endurant than the great oceans of our world... More powerful than the raw nature of our very sun," Evie spoke suddenly very softly and as elegantly as she could articulate, eying Emily's lips and her eyes, her sharp cheekbones and the paler tones of her fair skin.

Emily smiled a little. "You are very poetic, Lady Frye..."

"I consider myself to be a lot of things, Lady Kaldwin, not all of them poetic or ladylike. Most of them insanely daunting and dangerous for most women..." Evie continued, her voice trailing as she grew more and more hypnotised by Kaldwin's eyes before her.

Emily smiled, but then softened her lips as they parted and she drew herself closer to Evie, falling in for her. "I believe we are both anything but 'most' women, Lady Frye."

They were helpless for each other, drawing closer and closer until their lips met, and the two women kissed passionately and longingly. Evie's arms moved first, placing one of them on the sensual Emily's leg and then the other on her side. Emily held Evie's shoulders, and then cupped her face as they kissed, the train barrelling down the line and into Whitechapel at all speed, the morning dipping into the afternoon by the time it arrived. Evie Frye and Emily Kaldwin seemed to kiss for the remainder of the journey, not venturing further yet, but simply locking their lips in a heated dance of mild passion and longing. It was beautiful for the whole exchange, and Evie's heart was racing and fluttering like a fleeing hare from poachers. Emily was exotic, cold in her lips but so mellow, and with a taste and feeling that was amazingly euphoric and pleasuring to the elder Frye.

She could not deny herself, could not escape who she was. She loved women, as well as men. Emily Kaldwin may not have been the catalyst for such a life, but she was the final revelation to the vulnerable Frye. The queer and sapphic attraction that was nowhere near the level of sexual had cemented it in Evie’s mind that she wanted Emily, wanted women, with a force so powerful and so warm that it threatened to burn her from within in if she contained it any longer from the rest of the world.

Kaldwin disembarked before the station, and as the train pulled in, Evie could already make out her brother's rugged face. He had predicted her movements down the very train. He was far better than she gave him credit for.

Evie hopped down from the train and met with him as he smiled, knowing she was finally going to talk to him, he could tell.

She rolled her eyes at his grin. "Please don't look at me like that, Jacob," she asked of him. "You look ridiculous."

"That may be, my dear, sweet sister, but I do believe that this handsome face of mine is about to be made very happy. And might I say that in the last hour you look a little more radiant than when you eluded me. Something happen on the train, my dear Evie?" Jacob asked her as she walked and he followed in suit behind her. His stroll was elated and he looked still like an Artful Dodger with his top hat and long trench coat. It was no wonder he was a beacon for the women and a negative node for the wallets of trusting men. Unless he pilfered them himself. That was another talent Jacob had.

"Jacob... I love for women, as well as men."

She finally told him, stopping him and grabbing his wrist, looking at the floor the whole time as if she were ashamed that it had taken her this long to tell him such a large part of her life now. But she was not ashamed of it, only that she had not trusted herself or her brother enough to tell him about it.

But Jacob didn't care about how long she had taken, only that she had now told him anyway. And he was so proud of her. He held his elder sister in his arms and embraced her. "I know, Evie, and I am so happy you finally told me."

They broke and Evie looked finally happy with his muggish grin. Like a con artist. "At least now we'll go down in history." He told her, grinning.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her voice low and confused, knowing he was going to say something that would either peeve her or be so silly that she would scoff and roll her eyes yet again. Why did he have to be such a joker?

"I mean I knew, of course, I did. Evie, forgive me, my dear but you’re not exactly any good at hiding the fact. I think even Henry knows your little arrangement with Nellie. He doesn’t mind, of course, she’s a wonderful whore,” Jacob babbled onward, entertaining himself for a moment with his own view of the world around him and everyone else in it.

Evie grunted a little. “Jacob, she’s not a whore, she’s a prostitute. And she’s actually very good at it these days. She makes more than we do with the Rooks,” Evie informed him a little posthumously, trying to diminish his slur by attacking their shared ego. She knew how Jacob loved his Rooks.

“You what? Really? Curse that woman! She must be making a mint from the pair of us!”

She gasped at him. “Both?”

“What, you didn’t know? I see her every Friday…” He admitted, taking Evie and strolling down the stairs and out of the station into the commons of Whitechapel proper, where they had started the Creed’s hostile takeover of London from the grip of the Templars.

“Well, the ‘First Two Queer Master Assassins of London’. I rather like the sound of that. I would say that's worth a note in the archives. Not every lifetime that both twins of a father fall attracted to both men and women." He told her, grinning and then moving onward.

Evie was gobsmacked. Both of them. Both of them were the same. Loving of both men and women. She knew it.

“You always did have a flamboyant spring in your step after seeing that friend of yours when you were sixteen. What was his name again, Jacob?” Evie asked him, suddenly smiling, as full of herself as he was and elated that they were both out and proud to each other now.

Jacob feined a whimper and a cry. “Baxton Stocks. Lovely gentleman, made me feel like a man for the first time in my life… I couldn’t sit down properly for three days.”

“Come on, brother, there’s probably some more work that requires our attention.”

“Surely you’d rather gawk at Lady Kaldwin some more, dear sister.”


End file.
